Listen
by Sherry Marie
Summary: This is more of a series than a story with chapters. ZxS. Completed.
1. Listen

Listen  
  
Sanji had heard once that the ocean had a voice, when nights were calm and the air held itself in a reverent pause, that whispered its aged secrets to those few who were patient enough to look into its dark depth and listen. He couldn't remember who had told him this; the clearness of the memory lost before puberty, but he could still remember how much he had believed with a belief as strong in its infant stage as the belief he held, and still holds, of All Blue.  
  
He spent many young nights sneaking out along the abandon decks of that ship after the other cooks and kitchen help had went to bed. He had sat with his face pressed up against the smooth railing, feeling the spray of the midnight sea gentling raising tiny bumps on his chilled skin. He sat for hours, staring out into the silk and waves, listening to its echoing slap against the side of the boat as it continued its cut across water. He wanted so badly to hear that voice calling out its ancient mysteries, because he knew, deep down in the fragile place where the expectations of youth lay, if only for a short while, sacred and guarded, that he would be guided to the waters of All Blue by the knowledge in that voice.  
  
But no matter how much he sat there, staring out into the deepness of the sea, no whisper ever called to guide him. And he came to realize that voices in the ocean were not to be found in its murky depths, but from the mouths of foolish men who boasted and bragged on the decks of the boat where he worked in the kitchens. And of course, these voices were never anything more than idiotic exaggerations of sailing adventures that were spilled out in slurs and on tainted breath that painted the sailors as kings of the sea, as they pretended not to understand their vast insignificance when compared to the greatness of the waters of the world.  
  
And so he stopped listening for that voice; stopped believing that the sea was a thing that was willing to speak its words to man, and moved on to other things as he continued his climb out of childhood. But he still believed in All Blue, still believed in the wonder of the sea even if it remained silent, and still believed, though he would never admit it, that when he looked into the eyes of that old man, he believed the faded colors reflected the wisdom of the waters.  
  
Sanji walked from the kitchen of The Going Merry into the cool night air. He had spent hours alone in the kitchen, perfecting a special desert that he was planning on surprising Nami with the next day. The deck of the ship was uncharacteristically silent, so the chef guessed that the rest of the crew had already gone to bed. He himself was far from tired, as hopes of Nami's appreciation for receiving the special culinary gift danced before his heart-shaped eyes as he anticipated the next day. Tomorrow would be the day when the beautiful young woman would cast off her mask of indifference and display her affection in the face of his love and generosity.  
  
"If you keep walking around like that, you're going to fall over the rail."  
  
The hearts vanished from his eyes as quickly as they had appeared, as he looked around for the source of that annoying voice. Zoro stood with his back against the sea and the moon, in a deceptively casual lean against the ship's railing. The swordsman's arms were crossed against the broadness of his chest, with his lips turned in an amused smirk.  
  
"Mind your own business", the cook shot back reflexively, irritated to have his good mood shot to hell by the condescending tone in the swordsman's voice. But he couldn't really expect the other man to understand the effects of love, if the way Zoro treated women was any indication. Sanji couldn't fathom how someone could be around feminine beauty and not want to fall to his knees in admiration. From what he had seen, it seemed Zoro considered Nami's greatest asset to be her, well, navigation skills!  
  
"What are you still doing up at this hour? I've never seen you have any trouble getting to sleep. Ever."  
  
"Just thinking."  
  
"What made you decide to start that now?"  
  
Heat flashed in the swordsman's eyes, and Sanji felt his gut tighten as it always did at the sight, but instead of the expected explosion of anger, Zoro turned, rested his arms across the railing, and focused his gaze on the calm sea.  
  
"Something's up with Luffy. Something's bothering him."  
  
Sanji sighed, and leaned with his back to the railing, mimicking the earlier stance of the other man. He pulled out a cigarette; feeling he was going to need a nicotine fix for the upcoming conversation.  
  
"What makes you say that? He was acting fine earlier. Running around like an idiot as usual."  
  
"I don't know, exactly. It's just a feeling I get, that something is on his mind, but he's not talking."  
  
Zoro seemed to understand their captain better than anyone else, so if he felt that something was off, then he was most likely right. But instead of feeling concern, the chef felt a sudden flash of unexpected irritation at the other man's show of worry. He found himself striking out without thinking.  
  
"Sometimes I think that you have a case of hero worship for our rubber man. Or perhaps a little bit of a crush?"  
  
As soon as the words were spoken, Sanji wished he could take them back. Because as much as he enjoyed baiting the green-haired man, even he knew that he had just crossed a line. Which made him a little nervous, because if the two of them ever came to serious blows, the cook wasn't quite sure that he would be the one to win.  
  
"Nah. These days, I think I prefer blondes."  
  
In addition to his gut, Sanji felt his whole body tense up in response to the soft way the words were spoken. He was suddenly afraid to look in Zoro's direction, and the cook was rarely afraid of anything in life. He felt like he had the day he followed Luffy from the only true home he had ever known, from the only true family; like he was walking blind, that no matter where the future would take him, it would be abruptly different then what he had known before.  
  
Words shouldn't have the power to change life. Words did that and more.  
  
"You know, when I was a little kid, I overheard some jack-asses talking some crap about the sea actually talking to people. So I use to sit up, listening real hard, trying to hear it."  
  
It seemed completely unfair that the other man could continue onto his next thought after what he had implied. Well, Sanji didn't know quite what he had implied, but it was enough to make the cook feel irrationally nervous. Not that the blonde knew why it did, or knew anything else at that moment, other than the fact that Zoro had said something that was probably going to lead the chef to have an early stroke on the deck of this stupid ship, while the green-haired son-of-a-bitch just blabbered on about nonsense without a care in the world.  
  
He was damned if he was going to let the big idiot make a fool out of him. No one did cool and casual like he did. After convincing himself that his voice WASN'T going to crack, he started to talk again.  
  
"Yeah, I heard that when I was a kid, too. How long did it take for you to realize that was a bunch of bullshit?"  
  
He was almost right about the voice.  
  
"Who said I believe its bullshit?"  
  
Sanji finally turned and looked at the other man incredulously.  
  
"You're kidding me. Don't even try to tell me that you're still waiting for the sea to open up and start babbling stories to you."  
  
Zoro chuckled lightly.  
  
"Nah, not really. 'Cause it took me a little while, but I figured something out. The water isn't gonna grown a mouth and start talking. But it still talks to you."  
  
Sanji shook his head in disbelief, and began to wonder if this was all a dream, as surreal as the night had become, and he was actually back in his hammock dreaming some idiotic dream featuring a philosophizing swordsman and talking water. If that was true, then he was pretty pissed at himself for dreaming like this, and not dreaming something a lot closer to his usual dreams of choice; mostly involving Nami in a bikini holding a sword. Wait, not a sword. Where did that come from?  
  
He considered asking Zoro to pinch him to make certain that he wasn't sleeping, but didn't, because he was pretty sure he didn't want to risk any touching at the moment. So, instead, he snapped out,  
  
"What?"  
  
Maddenly, the other man's eyes never left the surface of the water as he answered him softly.  
  
"People listen with this to hear its voice"  
  
Zoro reached up and tapped gently on his own ear. The gold earrings sounded like tiny wind chimes when they moved together.  
  
"But the sea only talks to this."  
  
His hand moved down and tapped three times, softly, above his heart. Sanji watched, enraptured with the movement, not thinking of hidden scars.  
  
When he looked up, Zoro's eyes were fixed on him, and the intensity of the gaze was similar to the one he had seen the swordsman cast on his opponents moments before the killing blow.  
  
But this was not violence, but something close.  
  
He found himself whispering, "What does it say?"  
  
The other man smiled a predatory smile that made Sanji think about jumping over the railing that he was backed against to get away. It made him think of.not.  
  
The swordsman leaned in, and there was hardly any space between them now. Zoro's mouth just about touched Sanji's ear when he spoke in a low rough voice that caused the light dusting of blonde hair down Sanji's body to stand in anticipation.  
  
"Well, that's between me and the sea. What does it say to you?"  
  
The chef didn't know how he could breathe with Zoro so close. He sure as hell couldn't think, and he ended up saying the only words that would move past his lips.  
  
"Blonde girls, right?!?"  
  
The bastard. Laughed. In his face.  
  
He could still hear the echo of laughter long after the other man had turned and left, leaving him frozen against the railing; his flesh warm against the cool breeze from the sea.  
  
***  
  
To be continued. 


	2. Feel

Feel  
  
The best thing that ever happened in Sanji's life was having his ship attacked by pirates, getting kicked in the gut (hard, since the Old Man was never one to hold back on him, even then), being washed out to the deadly pull of the stormy sea, and nearly starving, ever so slowly, to his death on a rock that was scorched and abandoned beneath the unforgiving eye of the sun.  
  
Those events wove him into the man he became; gave him renewed purpose, the first real place he would, if only in the privacy of his heart, claim as 'home', and it gave him . . . (father). . . that Shitty Old Man.  
  
And then one day, another Best Thing dropped a cannon ball into the roof of his restaurant, and before you could say 'All Blue', he was off, running with a group of people, who's dreams were every bit as ridiculous and important as his own.  
  
He was still running with them today, especially today; running so hard that bitter sweat poured from his heated brow and into his eyes, blurring his vision as he raced through stubbornly thick foliage that snapped its branches and thorns at his face like fanged teeth.  
  
They had come out of nowhere, as cliché as that statement was. But, it was nevertheless true, and he pushed his aching body to go faster as he listened to he sounds of his pursuers growing closer. They looked like giant black spiders, taller than Zoro, and when they first emerged from wherever they dwelled on this seemingly abandoned island on which his crew had stopped in search of fresh food (regrettably, at the cook's own urging), it seemed as if the group could handle the creatures. But as they hacked and killed the enormous spiders, more and more emerged, until it seemed there had to be thousands of them, pouring down the broken mountainside like a deadly avalanche of legs and dripping fangs. He had begun to lose sight of his companions in the midst of the fierce swarm, and as he felt himself being overwhelmed with the force of attack, he knew that the best thing he could do was to fall back and try to get some distance between himself and the monsters if he had any hopes of surviving long enough to come up with a way to defeat them. His plan was not working quite they way he had hoped. The more he ran, the more creatures chased him, and the quicker they came.  
  
He finally broke from the embrace of the oppressive forest, the spiders close behind. But any relief was soon stolen as he looked ahead and realized that he was running towards the edge of a cliff. He heard loud angry hissing that seemed to be right beside his ear, and he knew that the monsters were almost upon him, knew that he was running both from death and towards it, took a moment to hope that Nami was still safe at Luffy's side where he had last seen her, and leapt over the edge of the jagged rock.  
  
He twisted his body once he was in free fall, and saw that he was descending quickly into a large river that cut its way through the island to the sea. The creatures were pouring over the cliff above him, pursuing him even in his fall. Their heavy bodies streaked by him, gravity dragging their massive bulk ahead of him into the waters below. He cried out as he felt a sharp pain in his left calf. One of the spiders had reached out and sank its vicious fangs into his leg, pulling him down faster. Angry, he landed a powerful kick to its grisly head, knocking it away. He turned his head in satisfaction to watch it bounce against the sharp wall of the cliff, until another body struck hard against the back of his head, and then all he knew was nothing.  
  
****  
  
"Hey, are you ever going to get up? Come on, Nami is walking around topless and you're missing everything. Just open your god damn eyes already, you idiot!"  
  
"You're the idiot." Sanji heard himself mutter before bringing himself to full consciousness. He blinked his eyes open, little by little, sensitive to the stinging light of the lingering sun. He finally got them fully opened, and the first thing that filled his line of vision was the battered face of Zoro peering down on him.  
  
"Got enough beauty sleep yet, cook?"  
  
"I'm not the one who needs it", his voice sounded as cracked as his throat felt. He tried to clear it, but wound up battling a coughing fit, tasting the salty sting of seawater in his mouth. A strong calloused hand propped him up and supported the back of his head until the worst of it had passed. Once he felt better, he shrugged out of the touch, and used all of his strength and stubbornness to force himself into a sitting position. He looked around at his new surroundings, trying to take in everything but the man sitting beside him.  
  
He was sitting on a soft grassy bank on the opposite side of the dividing river. Looking up, he glanced at the cliff that he had hurtled himself off of while escaping his pursuers, and was relieved and a little startled to see the area now clear of the deadly creatures. The deep ache in his left leg reminded him of his injury. He saw that the wound had been tended to while he lay unconscious, and tried his damnest not to be absurdly touched by the stretch of familiar black material now wrapped securely around his leg to serve as a bandage.  
  
"Where are our leggy friends?" Sanji asked through the awkward silence, his gaze stubbornly fixed back on the opposite cliff.  
  
"Lining the bottom of the river. Seems they sink faster than Luffy when they hit water. Which is lucky for us, since if they can't swim, they can't cross the river. I think we're clear of them where we are. I haven't seen any of them on this side, so far."  
  
"How did you get here?" Sanji all but mumbled, not really wanting to hear the heroic tale of how the other man had seen him in trouble, and fished him out of the river where he was floating to the bottom like some pathetic rag doll. The scenario seemed all too familiar; he already owed one asshole his life, and now it would seem that he owed another asshole the same thing. And what really burned him about both instances, was that he was really WAS a great swimmer!  
  
The other man paused before answering, and Sanji heard him shifting on the grass beside him.  
  
"Well, I was fighting through that mess, same as you, when I heard Ussop hollering for help. I started to make my way towards his voice, when I got knocked off balance by one of the creatures. I fell down, and before I could get back on my feet, I was, kinda, well. I got stepped on."  
  
A shock of laughter escaped through the blonde's lips. He finally turned amused eyes to the swordsman and got his first real look at the other man, and all pleasure drained as quickly as it had come. Zoro's right shoulder was oozing blood at an alarming rate, the white shirt almost soaked thoroughly by rich crimson. Sanji stared at it in shock, his own wound, which surely had to be minor by comparison, forgotten entirely. The other man took in the blonde's shock, and looked away in discomfort before continuing his tale.  
  
"Anyway, those pointy little legs really are as sharp as they look, and I got one stuck right in my shoulder. Before I could get myself free, the damn thing took off running, dragging me with it. It wound up running off the cliff, and the impact of the water finally jarred me loose. As I started to swim up to the surface is when I noticed you down there with me, so I grabbed you on the way up. And he we are."  
  
Sanji recovered his wits somewhat, and while carefully avoiding putting unnecessary weight on his injured leg, grabbed a hold of the front of Zoro's ruined shirt. He wasn't the resident doctor by any means, but even he knew that the shirt had to come off and the wound patch up quickly before the man lost any more blood. He didn't bother asking the other man to remove the shirt himself, since the blonde didn't want to risk the big moron playing the tough guy routine and lifting his arms to remove it; the movement would only serve to aggravate the injury further. Using Zoro's surprise at his sudden nearness to his advantage, Sanji took handfuls of the shirt and pulled; the fabric splitting neatly down the center.  
  
He leaned in to examine the ruined shoulder. The flesh was torn ragged straight through, and it was when he felt Zoro swaying to the side was when he realized that the swordsman was already suffering from the effects of blood loss. Gently he eased the torn shirt the rest of the way off. He saw mass bruising and swelling covering the tanned back which had to have been the results of being dragged by the spider, so he quickly removed his dark navy jacket and spread it out on the ground behind the green-haired man as an offered means of protection. Lastly, he unbuttoned and removed his dress shirt, shivering slightly as a leftover breeze whispering through the late afternoon air chilled his damp pale skin.  
  
When he looked up at Zoro to tell him to lie down, he saw that the other man's eyes were dark, much more focused than they should have been, and tracking each movement that he made. Sanji hadn't really thought about how close the two of them were at this point, or how half-naked. His stomach started to feel light the way it did when Nami's skirts were extra short or her shirts extra tight, but it was really so much more than that. So much more raw. And Sanji felt himself, ever so slowly and without conscious intent, swaying closer, easing more and more into the other man's personal heat, closer, falling past already shaken boundaries, and this was so much like tumbling over that cliff earlier, but scarier, because that time he had thought that he may have been falling towards his death, but this time, he hadn't a clue of what he was heading towards.  
  
With a start, he quickly realized that he wasn't the only one falling, as the closing distance between the two men suddenly opened again, and if he wasn't so off balance by what had almost just happened, he may have had the reflexes to catch Zoro as his eyes rolled up into his head and collapsed, unconscious, back against the ground.  
  
Sanji let out a whole slew of inventive curses that would sober up even the drunkest sailor. He focused his intention on the bloody shoulder, not wanting to think about ANYTHING else. Knowing that pressure had to be applied to the wound in both the front and back to stop the bleeding, and since he was seated on the left side of Zoro with an injured leg that prevented him from moving around too much, he was forced to lean across the unconscious man, snake his arm under his back to press the cloth of his shirt against the exit wound, while his other arm rested across the scarred chest to press the rest of the fabric against the wound's entrance.  
  
He didn't quite know how he was suppose to feel at this moment, laying half on top of the swordsman, with the flesh of their bare bellies resting against one another. So, for the sake of his slipping sanity, he decided to go for majorly pissed-off, and started thinking about all of the reasons he hated the drooling son of a bitch beneath him.  
  
He hated Zoro's lack of manners when around ladies. He hated the loud gulping noises he made when drinking. He hated that even though Zoro loved the food that Sanji cooked for him (after all, who wouldn't?), he rarely showed it. Sanji hated the fact that he could no longer hear the sound of wind chimes without feeling out of breath. And most of all, he hated him for THAT NIGHT, the night the chef finally heard the voice of the sea, and he heard it laughing at him.  
  
The body beneath his hands shifted back to consciousness. Zoro blinked around and at Sanji in confusion.  
  
"What -"  
  
"You fainted" Sanji replied with abrupt viciousness.  
  
The other man's eyes widened.  
  
"Huh? I fain--, I did not!"  
  
"Yeah, ya did." The cook replied cheerfully, not feeling the slightest bit of shame at the curl of pleasure he felt being cruel to the swordsman. "I've seen fainting before, you know. Back at the restaurant, we had a four-year-old girl faint once, and she looked just like you when you did it. She recovered a lot quicker, though, but I wouldn't worry about it. Its nothing to be all embarrassed about. Not really."  
  
"What?!?!" he all but screamed.  
  
"Shh. Calm down, Zoro. If you get all worked up, you might start swooning again."  
  
"SWOONING?!?! I'VE NEVER SWOONED."  
  
"All right, all right. I believe you." Sanji replied in a voice that clearly said the opposite.  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Not at the rate you're going."  
  
Sanji never experienced a silence as complete as the one that followed his words. Where they had come from, he hadn't a clue, but now they were out there, and there was no pulling them back. He could not even hear the pounding of his own heart, but he knew it roared, because he felt the painful pulse vibrate his entire body. He could not track time, but knew the oppressive silence must have stretched long before Zoro's voice, sounding deeper than it usually did, broke through.  
  
"My shoulder feels better."  
  
Like he cared.  
  
"Like I care."  
  
"You're pretty good at this. Guess you had to have had practice, huh?"  
  
Sanji may have grunted in response, he may not have.  
  
"I've heard stories about that old man, you know. There was a reason he was called 'Red Foot'. I guess you learned to patch yourself up as a kid while he was training you."  
  
"What are you talking about? He never made me bleed."  
  
"Really? Held back on you, huh?"  
  
"No. He just told me that he didn't want me messing up his restaurant by bleeding all over it. Said it was bad for business."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"He really loves you, you know, your old man."  
  
Sanji stiffened at the words, heat touching his cheeks. He stared off stubbornly in the distance, and snapped back,  
  
"Idiot. Don't talk about such stupid things!"  
  
"You're the idiot", the swordsman shot back, sounding angry, "Stupid guy that doesn't know that his father, or whatever, or anyone for that matter, I mean, that he's, or, you're.you know, loved. Or whatever."  
  
Sanji hated this whole conversation, and he knew that his face was growing a deeper shade of red with each word the other man was saying. Whatever was between himself and that Shitty Old Man was between them, and was not open for idle discussion to pass the time. And, it wasn't like he didn't know that what Zoro said was true, he did, he knew that.well, he knew.  
  
"I know. Idiot."  
  
There was a pause, before very softly, Zoro said,  
  
".do you .?"  
  
And like the first glint of dawn touching the tip of the night-drenched sea, understanding came, and Sanji knew.  
  
He knew.  
  
He looked down at the other man who was not looking at him with great deliberation. He had been so caught up in the flush of his own face, that he had missed the heat rising on the flesh under his hands. But he noticed it now. Whatever that conversation had cost him, it seemed to have cost Zoro more; the proof vibrating beneath his finger tips, and Sanji's mind could not wrap itself around the idea that there were things in this world that could make the toughest man that he had ever met tremble.  
  
And then he stopped trying to rationalize what was happening, stopped trying to think at all. Because words held power, it was true, but they also deceived and confused. And at the moment, he was so tired of it, so tired of everything, so very tired of trying to put what he was feeling into words for himself, that he decided to just feel instead.  
  
With sudden exhaustion, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the hardness of Zoro's chest, careful of the injury, and found himself with his ear above the other man's heart. He did not listen to its beat, but felt it instead, and lazily started to count the pulses that seemed to jump beneath flesh to place playful kisses onto the rim of his ear. He smiled into the feeling, and when his face stretched, it moved against the roughness of the long raised scar, and he understood, suddenly, that this was what he had been looking for, this was the explanation of everything that had been going on, this torn flesh beneath his smooth cheek. It was a mark from their first meeting, the essence of their true introduction, when Sanji watched as this man, this unbelievable person he was now pressed against, stood with his arms stretched inviting the mark to be made, inviting his body to be torn and split, so that his soul could look out from inside, just for a moment, to invite Sanji to come see.  
  
He wanted to trace its length with his fingertips to find out where it would lead, but he dared not move his hands yet from their place on the wounded shoulder. So he moved his face slightly, nuzzling into the mark, and that was OK, and when the cook felt a hand cradling the back of his head, blunt fingers weaving themselves into the silk of his blonde hair, that was OK, too.  
  
They didn't move until they heard the sounds of their companions searching for them. They both got up, silently, helping one another with their injuries, and left to rejoin their friends. For now, some things remained unspoken, but nonetheless, told. 


	3. Taste

Taste  
  
The cool morning air brushed damply against Sanji's skin as he laid out the final ingredients needed for the impending breakfast he was preparing for the crew. The sky, visible through the open window of the kitchen, was barely brushed by the reaching rays of the approaching sun; the waves below still dyed black from midnight.  
  
At this time of the day, the deck of the Going Merry was unusually still and silent, as most of his companions slept a while longer allowing Sanji this time of solitude. But, as always, he was not entirely alone in the pre-dawn hours of the day. He knew that he had only to turn his head to the small window beside him to see the shadowed form of Zoro already well- into his morning training; the heavy weights lifted above his head, his teeth gritted in concentration, the muscles in his corded back and arms stretched taunt in exertion, the fine sheen of sweat coating his body would just about be catching the first golden hues of the lightening sky –  
  
Soooooo much breakfast to prepare. Yep. Breakfast. Better get started.  
  
Sanji sighed, and began cutting the first mix of vegetables with a little more force than was strictly necessary. He resolutely did NOT turn his head towards the said window, but the stern resistance hardly did him any good, since he could picture the scene so clearly in his mind. It had been like this ever since they had returned from what was now referred to 'Spider Island' (although, Usopp had opted to call it 'Giant-Gross-Horrible- Fanged-Spiders-that-Would-Eat-Your-Face-Off Island', but the rest of the crew preferred the more condensed title).  
  
Neither had spoken about what had happened back on that island. They had returned and fell into old routines, both doing their damnest not to be the first to talk about this, well, this thing between them (Sanji couldn't even think the words in his own head, and Jeez, how pathetic was that?). Outwardly, they acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary, each pretending that the new connection they had forged silently on that grassy shore didn't embarrass the shit of each of them. And if they avoided each other a little more these days and talked a little less, well, they were never known as 'hanging buddies' even before this whole mess started, so the cook assumed the rest of the crew hadn't really noticed anything amiss.  
  
But inwardly, the tension was constantly leading Sanji's thoughts. Even with increased avoidance, his awareness of the other man was heightened to an uncomfortable level. He wondered sometimes if the way he was feeling was the way attraction worked between men. Because although women had always affected him greatly, it was vastly different from the way he now felt around the swordsman. A beautiful woman enhanced the world around her, making even the dullest setting seem special while she was there, and made all the world look brighter through Sanji's admiring eyes. But, this was different; the whole world didn't brighten, but instead, seemed to fade and drop away until the only thing that seemed to exist, at least to Sanji, was the hard form of Zoro.  
  
It was like an unspoken dare each morning, when the two of them, for all intents and purposes, were alone on the ship. A silent challenge issued to both of them to see who would break the silence first and approach the other. But it hadn't happened yet in the weeks since their return, and the thought of confronting the swordsman about the intimacies shared on the island sent flutters deep within Sanji's slender chest.  
  
And that was ridiculous! He was not some blushing 12-yer-old girl mooning over her first crush! He was a MAN, for Christ's sake, trained in combat by that Shitty Ol—by the legendary and feared pirate Redfoot, and he was not going to hide from this one day longer. Even now, he could just picture Zef's face if he knew how Sanji was behaving 'Men don't let things flutter! Get out there and face what needs to be faced before I kick that pathetic head off of your girly shoulders' and his shoulders were NOT girly, thank-you-very-much, they were lean and mean, just like the rest of him, unlike other green haired idiots that he could mention, that needed to bulk themselves up to compensate for, well, you know. Not that he did know, since they hadn't gotten that far yet and –wait! What was this 'yet' thing? There was no 'yet' in this equation! The thought of 'yet' was NOT making him turn beat red and sweat, and this 'yet' thing was where he calls it quits, he wants off of this boat with its flutters and muscles and 'yets' (not the actual boat, mind you, he still needed that to make it to All Blue, but the figurative boat of Zoro, that he had ridden quite long enough --- ...)  
  
.........  
  
ENOUGH! Enough, enough, ENOUGH!!!!  
  
He threw the knife down onto counter with final determination, and quickly turned on his heel to go out there and finally face this whole ridiculous situation before it got any more ridiculous (if that was even possible at this point) and it was amazing the kind of sound that two heads can make when slammed together at close range. He stumbled until his back hit the side of the counter, cursing, holding his aching head.  
  
Looking up, he saw Zoro mirroring his actions, with a pissed and pained expression on his face and multiple curses on his lips. The two men sat there glaring at each other, until Sanji spat out,  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you, you idiot! Sneaking up on people is a great way to get that ugly face of yours kicked in!"  
  
"I wasn't sneaking up on anything, you baka cook! I've been here for like five minutes calling your name, but you've just been standing there hacking up vegetables and muttering to yourself like a lunatic. I went over to tap your shoulder when you slammed into me!"  
  
More silence and more glares. As some degree of sanity slowly started to return, and Sanji started to remember what had him all worked up in the first place, the cook started to feel uncomfortable again in the swordsman's presence, and that lead to anger, because it was far easier to be pissed than uncertain.  
  
He dropped his eyes from the other man's, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. Zoro was sweaty and shirtless from his workout, which was to be expected. Sanji forced his eyes from the impressive scar across the tan chest where they had naturally drifted towards (trying not to remembering how the rough flesh felt against the surface of his cheek) and settled on the recently wounded shoulder. There were still black stitches embedded within the flesh, and the skin around the injury was tinged red due to the strain placed on it during the early morning training.  
  
"You're going to pull your stitches open if you don't take it easy like Nami instructed. Idiot."  
  
The remark was made just to fill the stifling silence, not out of any real concern. Not really.  
  
"Humph. I can handle it. I have complete mastery over my body. It behaves the way I want it to."  
  
Sanji was almost able to stop from rolling his eyes at the boisterous remark. He had the sudden urge to walk up to the other man and jab his finger hard into the wound to see this 'mastery' in action.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"How's the leg?"  
  
"Its fine. Nami-san took very good care of me." He drawled with a smile.  
  
Zoro's face grew stormy, and he looked to the side. Then, a wicked smirk twisted the corners of his mouth, and he said,  
  
"That's good to hear. I don't blame her for taking extra care with you, with you looking so delicate and all. I mean, I doubt even Nami-san would want to see a grown man cry."  
  
There was an even longer pause where Sanji felt his face go from flushed to drained and back again no less then half a dozen times. Nothing existed to the blonde but anger and its target, the world dimming around him.  
  
He approached the other man slowly, who looked at him warily, overly aware suddenly that he had entered the kitchens without his swords. Sanji entered and pushed past the other man's personal space, and noted with distant satisfaction the almost imperceptible unconscious step back Zoro made. They were practically nose-to-nose, sharing mingled hot breath in the short space that still separated the two men. Eyes locked stubbornly on one another, bonded like the earth and the sky, each waiting to see who would break the contact first. Without a word, without a warning, Sanji lifted his right hand, index finger extended, and dug it hard into patched shoulder.  
  
Zoro was unable to hold back the cry of pain mingled with surprise, and Sanji smiled at the sound, delighted at the sound, and wanted nothing more at that moment to hear it again. He raised his hand again, but this time his wrist was caught in an angry grip, but the cook refused to relent and he threw himself hard onto the other man, determined to extract the rest of his revenge. But Zoro, with all of those ridiculous muscles, matched him with force, and they wound up stumbling around the kitchen in their struggle, until the swordsman used his greater bulk to twist Sanji around, slamming the blonde hard against the wooden wall.  
  
They stood like that, each seething in his own rage, panting with exertion of the struggle, with Zoro holding each of the cook's wrists against the wall in a bruising grip while the rest of his body pressed into Sanji's in an attempt to prevent the blonde from kicking out. The chef strained against the confining body, but knowing that it was a lost cause, since the other man had him beat quite easily when it came to brute strength.  
  
He needed to get away, leave the kitchen, get away from this brain-dead tormentor that just wouldn't seem to ever leave him alone. It wasn't suppose to be like this, his life was not suppose to take on even more complications; he was suppose to find All Blue, and be famous, and be ready for Nami when she finally stopped pretending that she didn't want him, and show that old man back there that it was possible for him to go out and find both of their dreams...  
  
He looked up into Zoro's eyes and it hurt, twisted deep within his gut, to see the complex pool of emotions reflected back at him through those dark eyes, and he broke, couldn't take the contact, and dropped his eyes down to the taller man's throat that was still so close to him. This close, this strained, he could seen a single drop of perspiration snake down the fine cords of the other man's neck. Without thinking, without understanding intention, he leaned close and took the small droplet onto the tip of his tongue.  
  
This was something that he could take in and understand; not the soft gasp of surprise above him, not the shared shudder that ran through both of their bodies. He was a cook, had been ever since he could remember, and he had been trained to understand the complexity of things through their taste.  
  
Flavor of the man exploded on his tongue, and quickly passed onto other regions of his body. There were so many different layers to the salty taste of Zoro's sweat, reflective of the man himself that Sanji struggled to take in barrage of sensation that the single drop of wetness provided. He could only concentrate on that one sense, not noticing that the grip on his wrists had slacked and was no longer painful, not noticing the racing heart hammering from one chest to another, not acknowledging that he was hard, they were both hard, and that things were looking to get a lot more complicated from this point on.  
  
And he was hungry, that sampling of flavor made him feel starved, and he felt that if he didn't lift his head to get more of that taste that he would die from wanting. He lifted his head to seek more, and it was granted swiftly as the other man's head dipped down and an equally starved mouth pressed against his, lips firm against lips, until they parted, gave way, and Sanji's tongue pushed eagerly, instinctively, into the warm cavern.  
  
If he thought he was in danger of death from wanting, now he was in danger from exposure, as he felt mercilessly overwhelmed by the amount of flavor in which he found himself drowning. Nothing had ever tasted like this before, and he doubted that anything would ever taste this exquisite, this perfect, this endless. Not even the legendary taste of elephant tuna would even come close to the way that this man tasted, could never make Sanji feel so satisfied and so starved.  
  
They broke apart for the utterly annoying need for air. They rested, forehead to forehead, each drawing in deep gulps of air. Neither one was ready to stop just yet, and when they felt they were ready, their mouths began to draw together.  
  
Thump. Thump. Thump.  
  
"Breakfast breakfast breakfast!!! Its time for breakfast !! I'm sooooooooooo hungry! I haven't eaten all night – Why can't I smell anything!?! SANJI!"  
  
Luffy's distant but approaching voice intruded and jerked them apart. They both stared at each other in wide-eyed shock, neither seeming to have the facilities left to react.  
  
"Sanji-kun! Where is the special breakfast that you promised me this morning?"  
  
At the sound of Nami's approaching singsong voice, Zoro stepped back from him with a stumble, and Sanji had just enough dignity to stop himself from sliding to the floor at the lost contact. Without a word or a final look back, the swordsman turned and left the now daylight filled kitchen.  
  
In a daze, Sanji pulled himself from the wall, and made his way back to the abandoned ingredients left on the counter. With a final swipe of his tongue against his swollen lower lip, catching the cooling flavor, he tried to compose himself before he was greeted with the rest of the crew.  
  
To be continued... 


	4. Scent

Scent  
  
His hand, raw and wet, pushed open the door to the cabin allowing the rain- battered cook to stumble into the dry safety within. He pulled the door closed with the last of his strength, feeling the resistance of the still raging winds, and he stumbled into the dimly -lit room, not stopping until his body was flush against a far wall. The rain was like little violent bullets beating with vengeful insistence against the surface of the ship; the rapid pounding matched the hidden pulse within his slender chest. The echo of the storm, although slower than it had been for the last few hours, was the only sound accompanying his ragged breathing.  
  
Sanji had spent the last few hours on deck side by side the rest of the crew defending The Going Merry against the storm's hold over the angry sea. And it was madness, the few of them against the elements of sky and water; the same madness that lead them to the Grand Line, the same madness that through history had pulled man from the safety of the shores and into the temperamental clutch of the sea.  
  
His body simmered with tension, stretched and burning with the relief of temporary survival. It was a rush pumping deep within his core, an energy trying to escape through the tight span of his pores. With an almost distant interest, he felt himself slide to the floor as the strength in his legs fled and weariness found its voice. But his heart still beat in synch with the tempo of the rain, and the howling wind that screamed through the wooden ship seemed to be reaching with greedy fingers down his throat trying to steal his breath.  
  
He knew he had to move, that this reduction of nature's violence was merely its eye, and there was still much to get through before he could truly rest. But he found that he had no control over his body, and he could only lay his heavy rain-soaked head against the rough wood of the wall that he was slumped against.  
  
The door across from him slammed open admitting a dripping Zoro. At first, the immobile cook remained unobserved, blending into the shadows of the dark room. His tired eyes were riveted on the swordsman, quietly observing the other whose movements seemed quicker than his normal gait. The rain was beginning to pick its pace back up beyond the walls, but Sanji still managed to detect the harsh and hurried breaths coming from the other man. He was looking around, still unaware that Sanji was with him, his movements tight and contained, but soon, his sharp, slightly wild gaze fell into the shadows to see the cook.  
  
"What the hell are you doing there?"  
  
The other had neither strength nor inclination to answer. Speech seemed impossible, inconsequential, to the power of the open storm, so he merely stared at the green-haired man before him.  
  
His lack of response seemed to agitate the already cagey swordsman. The dark eyes narrowed , fixed on the chef, with unreasonable anger brimming deep, deep; a twin storm raging within the sharp gaze while its brother howled beyond the walls.  
  
A few quick steps and Zoro had moved from the center of the room and into the shadows to stand above Sanji's slumped body. What little light managed to sneak past the shadowed barrier of the corner cast lightly against the hard form of Zoro, creating an oddly gentle outline of tight muscle and simmering violence.  
  
"Are you a fucking moron? Get up. We're not even close to being through this, yet. We need to get ready before it picks back up."  
  
Again, he remained silent; this man before him and the storm beyond the walls seemed unreal to him, like hidden whispers from a waking dream.  
  
Before the blonde's eyes registered movement, Zoro's hands were wrapped tightly into the front of his shirt, jerking Sanji roughly to his feet. His back slammed against the smooth wood behind him, and then again. The swordsman's face loomed close to his, and he thought that he tasted the other's elements on the surface of his dry lips, as they were brushed by harsh breath. His tongue slipped out without his will, and savored strength, adrenaline, and storms.  
  
The numbness that had invaded his weary body began to seep slowly away bringing discovered sensation. He began to feel the nearness of the man holding him, could feel the pattern of bruises forming on his chest where hard-fisted knuckles pressed. Zoro was waking him up, returning lost energy stolen by his battle with the violent storm, bringing his body back to the moment.  
  
And as they stood there, closer than the two of them had been since that interrupted morning in the kitchens two days ago, Sanji felt the violent trembling of the other man lessen, the breathes even somewhat, the tension ease enough to allow the swordsman's taunt body to bend. The shoulders dropped from their unreasonable bunch, and as his eyelids slipped shut, the green-haired man leaned forward until his forehead rested gently against Sanji's.  
  
The cook's arms lifted with renewed strength, twining around Zoro's waist. Underneath them, the waves rolled the ship through its choppy water, but they were still and unmoving, not knowing which one was holding the other up.  
  
Sanji shifted his head slightly, and felt their faces slide wetly together until he was nestled into the juncture of Zoro's neck and shoulder, and Zoro in his. He tightened his grip, and breathed deeply, pulling the other man's musky scent deep into his body.  
  
He smelled like welcome and threat, like purpose and distraction. Sanji inhaled again, wanting to imprint the scent onto his very soul, knowing that this was the reason that man took on the impossible challenge of the sea. Because the best things in life are like the calling of the tide; you don't know how badly you want it as you stand on shore, watching as it rolls in, but you feel it pulling you back with it, so very dangerous in its seduction. Knowing that man was not meant to walk on water you follow, unable to turn back to the safety of the land once you have taken that first step, both driven and repulsed with fear.  
  
"What's going to happen next?" Sanji whispered, not talking about the storm, moving his mouth against the damp skin like a make-believe kiss. Then, giving into impulse, he wordlessly pressed them there and then again, making the motion real.  
  
He felt Zoro shudder at the movement; a different motion then the earlier over-adrenalized trembles that had racked the swordsman's body.  
  
"We're going to get through this." was the answer spoken close to his ear, whispered like a shy erotic secret.  
  
"Zoro."  
  
The swordsman's breathing grew ragged once again, and Sanji supposed that the other man had liked the breathy way in which he had spoken his name. Thunder rolled in the distance, and the cook knew that there wasn't much time before they were past the eye and once again fully emerged into the temper of the storm. But the sly smile would not stop itself from forming, and he leaned up slightly, making sure that his now -moist lips were pressed shamelessly against the rim of Zoro's ear. When he spoke, it was almost without sound, but he knew that he would be heard just the same.  
  
".why do you keep throwing me against walls?"  
  
There was a pause, and Sanji could feel the slight tensing of surprise in the other man's body. For a second, he was afraid that he had ruined the moment, until he felt the chest pressed against his begin to shake, and heard the rich sound of laughter filling-up the corners of the dark cabin. Sanji joined him, soon feeling warm moisture forming at the corner of his eyes as he laughed with abandon.  
  
So there they were, two idiots in the middle of the most violent sea storm of their lives, cracking-up like a pair of giddy schoolgir---boys.  
  
As if on cue, the ship gave a violent lurch, and the two of them stumbled back a few steps away from the wall. The laughter quieted, but the smiles were still there. Zoro's arms were now around Sanji's shoulders, while his own were still clutched around the solid waist.  
  
Sanji was a man, no one could dispute that fact. And Zoro, well, no one could dispute his masculinity to his face without soon finding him or herself several inches shorter. So, they were both men, indisputably, and now they were indisputably hugging the hell at of each other with the stupidest of grins on their manly faces. Sanji supposed that he could deal with that.  
  
Hell, he seemed to be dealing with it just fine.  
  
With another lurch, reality reinstated itself fully, and they finally pulled apart. Zoro's smile had turned to wistfulness as he stood for just a moment longer looking at the cook before starting to turn away to go and help the rest of the crew through the final stage of the storm.  
  
"We need to talk."  
  
Sanji was startled at the sound of his own voice, and even more startled at his words. Because, what man ever wanted to willingly talk? But, he went ahead and blamed it on the call of the tide, and just figured that if this thing between them was going to work, certain points in his manly-life were going to have to be re-negotiated.  
  
Zoro looked back, and his expression was a little nervous, but determined and softened with affection.  
  
"We will."  
  
Then, the corner of his mouth lifted, and he nodded at the door and the increasing storm beyond.  
  
"Unless we drown first, of course."  
  
Sanji rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly, jogging after the retreating man.  
  
"You're not getting out of this that easily, buddy." 


	5. Vision

Vision  
  
Sanji had a plan.  
  
Well, in all honesty, it was kind of also Zoro's plan, he supposed, but it was * mostly * HIS plan, since he was the one who figured out that they needed a plan in the first place ---  
  
Wait, this is getting confusing already. Back up a few steps.  
  
Sanji and Zoro had this "thing" between them. If it sounds a little vague, then, well, that's because it was. Is. But not for long. Thus, the PLAN.  
  
The Going Merry, as large as it was, seemed to be constantly over-run with its mostly rowdy crew, as small as it was, and this phenomenon tended to make it virtuously impossible for two adult men to find any sort of private time required to discuss any "things" that have been developing between them. So, knowing that the crew was due for a pit stop in the next port that they came across, the two men had decided that they would meet up to discuss things in private.  
  
And today was the day.  
  
It was all worked out; they were going to leave the ship separately and then meet back up. As Sanji watched the dock growing closer, he grew more and more nervous, but determined. He stole a glance at Zoro who was standing not too far from him, and had to look away quickly when he felt the sudden urge to lose his lunch on his freshly shined shoes.  
  
Christ, he doubted that he had ever been so nervous about anything in his entire life. He had no idea of how the upcoming discussion was going to go, and he had a hard time picturing how he was suppose to act. How did you act romantic with another guy? It couldn't be the same as you acted with a woman, with sweet words and compliments. Could it? No. He couldn't even imagine what he would say to compliment the other man. It wasn't like he could come out and say something like //"Hey Zoro, you sure have lovely eyes."// The thought alone made him cringe, and would probably result in him getting his own eye punched.  
  
It wasn't like it wasn't true, but such thoughts didn't come naturally when in the presence of the other man. And he was afraid that if he did go with what came naturally, he would wind up saying something more along the lines of //"Hey Zoro, I sure would like to lick maple syrup off your stomach some time."//  
  
His thoughts were crowded as he started to leave the ship with the rest of his crewmates to make his way to the bustling town, and he wisely kept himself from stealing any more looks at the green-haired swordsman. But, the sound of raising voices soon grabbed his attention.  
  
"Ussop! You promised me!"  
  
Sanji could not stop from raising his head at the sound of distress in Nami's voice.  
  
"I did not, Nami! You volunteered me without asking. I have things that I want to do here, too!"  
  
Sanji was half expecting the artist to stomp his foot at the end of the words from the look of exasperation on his face. The cook guessed that this disagreement had been going on for a while now.  
  
"But how am I suppose to carry all of my supplies by myself?"  
  
Her bottom lip stuck out in a pretty pout, and Sanji could not help himself from staring at the adorable vision that was Nami. Feeling his eyes, she looked up in his direction, and the pout turned into a smile.  
  
Uh-oh. This wasn't good.  
  
"Never mind, Ussop. Sanji-kun-"  
  
No. No no no no no. He had a PLAN. He was DETERMINED. He wasn't even going to let the little minx finish that thought. Looking her directly in her beautiful eyes, he squared his shoulders, and spoke with conviction.  
  
"Whatever you want Nami-san."  
  
Well.  
  
Crap.  
  
She grinned broadly at him, and he cursed himself into the furthest regions of hell as he felt hearts swelling in his eyes.  
  
"Whatever she wants, huh? Sounds like the two of you are in for an interesting afternoon."  
  
Zoro's voice was like a bucket of ice water being poured down his back. The hearts vanished, and he looked at the other man, who was not looking at him. The swordsman walked away from them without another word.  
  
"You know, it's amazing that we have gentleman like Sanji-kun and ill- mannered APES like Zoro in the same crew!" Nami commented making sure her voice followed the departing man.  
  
She reached over, gently tugging on Sanji's arm. He allowed himself to be led into the crowd, feeling nothing but numbness.  
  
***  
  
After about an hour of silently following Nami from shop to shop, Sanji knew that he had to devise a way of escape. Zoro's cool detached voice followed him with every step that he took, and the cook knew that if he still had any sort of prayer of salvaging this mess that this trip had turned into, he had to go and find the other man quickly.  
  
"Um, Nami-san, how many more places do we have to go?"  
  
She replied without lifting her eyes from the oil lamp that she was examining.  
  
"As many as it takes, Sanji-kun. We need to go into each shop, to make sure that we are getting the best price."  
  
She left the shop empty-handed (again) as Sanji wordlessly followed. The late-afternoon sun was beginning to drop down into the horizon, and the blonde knew that if he was going to make a break for it, that it would require drastic measures.  
  
"You know, Nami-san, I'm really enjoying spending this time with you."  
  
"Mmm." was the distracted response as she scanned the square for the next shop.  
  
He took her distraction as his opportunity, as he snaked an arm gently around her waist and pulled her light curvy body close to his. He leaned his head towards her, and took a moment to revel in her lovely feminine scent, but was able to stop himself from losing sight of his purpose for a second time that day. He spoke in a low voice while staring deep into her wide startled eyes.  
  
"I'm so happy that you wanted to be with me today. I knew it was only a matter of time before you realized what you wanted."  
  
He began to lower his lips to hers, and knew the impact was coming even before her dainty fist slammed into the side of his face. He loosened his grip on her as he stumbled back a few steps, allowing her to slip away.  
  
Putting a pained expression on his face, he looked at the woman who was looking back at him annoyed, and, yes, more than a little flustered with her pale skin swept by a blush.  
  
"Um, Sanji-kun, I think that I can handle the rest of the shopping by myself. Thanks again!"  
  
She turned and hurried off before he had a chance to form a reply. Once she was completely out of sight, he took a second to straighten himself, and then began his search for Zoro.  
  
***  
  
As the evening grew darker, Sanji grew more and more irritated and edgy as he continued to search the crowds for the swordsman. He just could not imagine where the green-haired man could have disappeared to in the relatively small but densely populated town. He had checked every weapon shop and every tavern that he had come across (since those seemed the most logical choices of where Zoro would most likely spend his time), but so far he had no luck.  
  
At this point, his apprehension had put him in a foul mood, and the swarm of people constantly around him was wearing on his frayed nerves. It seemed that it was impossible to take more than five steps without being bumped into, and he was afraid that he was going to lose it the next time it happened.  
  
His internal rant was interrupted as he (surprise!) collided into yet another body. His blonde head snapped up, and he barked out,  
  
"Will you watch where the hell you're going?!?"  
  
And then all anger faded as he looked up into the tanned face of Zoro.  
  
"Zoro-"  
  
Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the other man's cool voice.  
  
"Where's Nami-san? Doesn't she need some things carried for her or her ass kissed?"  
  
Sanji sighed.  
  
"Nami can carry her own stuff."  
  
"Really? I thought that a * gentleman * would -"  
  
"Would you just shut-up! Listen, I fucked-up, OK? I know that. Can't we just-"  
  
"Just what, Sanji-kun? What did you have in mind to do with me tonight that you couldn't do with Nami?"  
  
Sanji's face burned at the sleazy tone in which the words were spoken.  
  
"I just wanted, I mean-"  
  
Zoro lifted an eyebrow at his stumbling, but instead of easing up, he seemed to coolly enjoy the blonde's obvious embarrassment and discomfort. Sanji grew furious.  
  
"You are such a fucking bastard! I don't need this shit. Let's just forget the whole stupid thing."  
  
Mortified and angry, the cook tried to stalk past the other man. A hand grabbed his arm to stop him.  
  
"Sanji-" the tone was much more gentle and tinged with regret, but the cook still cut him off with a cool hiss.  
  
"If you don't take your goddamn hand off of me right now, I will break it. I swear to God."  
  
His arm was released, and Zoro took a wise step back.  
  
Sanji ran a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to bank his anger. Both men stood there for a moment, as the crowd moved around them.  
  
"I'm getting something to eat. You can come if you want." said Zoro looking off to the side.  
  
"Sure. Whatever." Sanji replied to his shoes.  
  
***  
  
They walked along in silence for a while in search of a suitable looking tavern, still cloaked in uncomfortable silence. The sounds of laughter and catcalls drew their attention, as they passed by a couple kissing passionately across the dimly lit street. Sanji glanced at them, and was about to turn away when he noticed that his companion was still staring at the couple, with an odd expression in his eyes. The cook looked back at the pair, and it was then he realized that the smaller form that was wrapped in the arms of the tall darkly dressed man, was in fact, a man himself.  
  
The cook put his head down and walked on, cursing the blush that was singeing his cheeks. The entire point of this so far bumpy evening came rushing back to him, and his nerves began to once again eat at his stomach.  
  
"That's just disgusting. Why do they have to carry on like that in public? Don't they care what other people think of them?" the swordsman commented, nodding his head back towards the passionate couple.  
  
Startled, and more than a little irritated by the words and tone with all things considered, Sanji stopped suddenly at a bakery stand they were passing and picked up an item from the counter.  
  
"Creampuff?" Sanji asked with mock innocence, hiding a smile, while holding the pastry under the swordsman's nose.  
  
He received a glare in return, as the other man stalked ahead of him. Smirking, he set down the baked good. He gave a lazy wink to the blushing sales girl, feeling better than he had in hours, and then went to catch up with the fuming man.  
  
He followed him onto a rather dubious looking tavern, and as seedy as it had looked from the outside, the inside was every bit as grimy. They sat there nonetheless, and ordered food and drinks. Lots of drinks.  
  
The time at the tavern was spent with edgy silence interrupted occasionally with stunted conversation. As much as the chef drank, he felt a small amount of disappointment that he hardly felt the effects of the alcohol. He imagined that this night would be a lot more bearable intoxicated.  
  
Across from him, Zoro was eating his meal without interruption, and Sanji fought down the juvenile urge that was prompting him to stick out his tongue at the other man. The food here was beyond gross, yet the swordsman ate it just the same as he would eat Sanji's masterful cooking on The Going Merry. The cook felt oddly insulted by this.  
  
A movement caught his eye, and he felt bile rise as he watched a small little bug scurry down a crack in their tabletop.  
  
"OK, that's it. We have to get out of here. This place is beyond disgusting."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm sure Nami would have picked a more suitable place for your delicate tastes."  
  
Sanji barely stopped himself from throwing what little flatware he had been given at the other man.  
  
"Look, I already said that I was sorry about that. What the hell do you want?"  
  
"I thought that's what we were here to talk about, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, but I don't see that happening until you stop acting all jealous."  
  
Zoro threw down his fork and gave him a hard glare.  
  
"I am NOT jealous."  
  
"No?"  
  
"No. Its just that---I mean, you can't just keep running after Nami all the time."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
The question was not asked in anger, but in a tired and defeated tone. Sanji sighed, and looked down at the dirty tabletop. This whole night wasn't getting them anywhere, and he was no less confused and uncertain than he had been that first night against the railing. He had come here seeking answers, but was beginning to realize that he wasn't even certain what question he was asking. An uncomfortable silence fell between the men.  
  
"This is a date. We are on a date." Zoro announced suddenly with conviction, shocking the living hell out of Sanji.  
  
"Its -- it's a what? We are?!?!? Since when? How-"  
  
"We're in a restaurant, eating a meal, and I'm paying. It's a date." The swordsman confirmed with a nod.  
  
"* You're * paying?"  
  
Sanji's open palm slammed down hard on the gritty table, rattling the dishes.  
  
"WHY DO I HAVE TO BE THE GIRL?"  
  
Heads snapped to them in all directions at the aggravated yell, and silence fell like a surprise rain. Sanji had no color to him now, and never wanted to melt into and become part of a chair so badly in his entire life.  
  
Zoro dropped his head into his hand, and after a moment's pause, called out into the dead quiet,  
  
"Can we have the check, please?"  
  
Then, he took his hand away from his face, looked at Sanji's clearly mortified form, shifted his gaze up to Heaven, and added,  
  
"And can we get that split?"  
  
The silence was shattered by the swordsman's deep bellowing laughter.  
  
Sanji just stared at the hysterical man, unable to make the jump back to coherent thought.  
  
He finally felt a presence by his elbow, and saw that a serving girl was standing near him, looking at the laughing swordsman warily.  
  
"Um, I don't remember how many drinks each of you had to split-"  
  
Her soft, nervous voice trailed off as Sanji reached out and gingerly took her hand. He pressed his lips softly to its surface in a lingering kiss, and although he did not shift his eyes from the now entranced girl, he heard the laughter at the other end of the table fade and drop away. When there was silence once again, he spoke.  
  
"Well then, Lovely, could you at least bring one of us a dress?" he drawled, ending the question with a flirtatious wink.  
  
This time, when Zoro's laughter cut through the startled silence, Sanji's own matched it in volume. He wasn't sure how long the two of them sat there, laughing until Sanji tasted salty tears run into the corner of his mouth, but at some point the manager had come up to them and informed them that their bill was on the house if they would just leave NOW, and then Zoro's strong arm was around his waist, pulling him to his feet, as they stumbled out arm and arm into the warm night like a couple of drunken fools.  
  
They walked for hours, wandering with no direction, talking until their throats were dry and raw. Sanji was never one to open up about his past, but now he talked obsessively, revealing things to the swordsman that he had never before spoken out loud to another living being. And in return, he learned much about Zoro, felt his heart constrict and ache as he was gruffly told about the loss of the young swords girl, and finally felt as though he understood the roots of determination propelling the other man.  
  
As they stopped, finally, for a rest at one of the more deserted edges of the pier, the pair fell into a very easy silence, stood very close to one another, and gazed into the lightening sky.  
  
The hour of the morning just before the sun managed to push and prod its first real break into the sky always seems to be filled with so much more than any other hour of the day. It was a time of weakening and mounting strength, as the seemingly unbreakable blackness of the night begins to slip and buckle as morning gathers its forces to slip over the devious horizon to claim its place. A time of old expectations ending, and new possibilities painted fresh.  
  
It was in this moment that the two men found themselves living. Found that the approaching light had taken their paths and twined them together, as they let go of old assumption and opened up to new expectation. Reaching to where they had always shied back, relenting where they had always ever been relentless.  
  
Calloused fingers captured his unusually soft ones in the fading shifting shadows. Sanji let his eyelids slip shut with a soft smile as the sun finally broke out and over the horizon. He did not need his eyes to see ahead, but instead, allowed his heart to look out, and he saw clearly that this day would be vastly different than the ones before, and he squeezed the hand in his in satisfaction.  
  
The End. 


End file.
